


His Father's Son

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Arguing, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Episode Tag, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abandoned by Sophie to be alone with his liquor, Nate thinks about his past, and why it bothers him so much that everyone assumes he's capable of cold blooded murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Father's Son

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angst_bingo)[](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angst_bingo)**angst_bingo** , for the prompt "emotional abuse".
> 
> Time stamp to "10 L'il Grifters Job".

“Damn Sophie!” Nate muttered, tossing off the glass he’d poured for himself in one swallow. In one deft move, she’d stripped away his defenses and laid out the truth between them. She knew exactly why he was so twisted up inside, even if she didn’t understand the source of his anger.

_I’m proud of you, son._

Nate winced, hearing his father’s voice in his head again. _Somewhere out there the old bastard’s laughing, and he doesn’t even know why._ The truth was that Jimmy Ford would have treated it as a foregone conclusion that Nate had killed Beck. _It’s what he would have done in my place._ And having finally acknowledged his son as “more ruthless” and “crueler” than he was, Jimmy would have presumed that Nate at the very least saw things the same way.

He stared at the rapidly emptying bottle of Jack in front of him. _I am not a killer._ It was the one tiny strip of moral high ground he had left separating himself from his father, and even _he_ didn’t believe the assertion anymore. Not completely. The fact that everyone else apparently already accepted it as being a part of his emotional makeup had shaken him badly.

 _Stupid…worthless…weak…_ The old litany started in his head again – oddly comforting in the face of everything that had happened in the past several days.

The next glass he poured for himself emptied the bottle. Nate looked into the shimmering amber liquid, and tried to remember a time when his father hadn’t mercilessly torn into every good thing his mother had tried to teach him. Katherine Logue Ford had never been prouder of Nate than the day his first grade teacher showed her the test results proving that her son was a genius.

That same afternoon he’d gone to the bar to be “looked after” by his father – something that happened at least twice a week so Katherine could attend her various church meetings. His halting attempts to explain the test and what it meant to Jimmy had resulted in the entire matter being dissected by the regulars at McCrory’s Place.

Decades later, Nate could still remember how it felt as the crowd of men laughed at him; his face burning with shame as he hid under a table in a corner of the bar and tried with all his might not to cry. Crying was another weakness his father could mock him for; he’d learned _that_ particular lesson very early and very well.

The scars of his childhood had carried forward, and as he got older, Jimmy’s attacks became more pointed and more vicious. Nate had finally started seeing a psychiatrist while he was in seminary. The woman had helped him understand intellectually that his father’s insults were attempts to control a son he saw as an ever increasing threat, but nothing they tried would shut up the voice in his head.

In the end he’d walked away from treatment, and calmly added another failure to the list of his life’s achievements. Leaving seminary a year later had been another. He would always be grateful Jimmy had been in jail when Sam died – Nate had always known in the back of his mind that whatever he tried to build with Maggie would end in failure; he’d just never imagined it would be such a soul-shattering disaster, or that an innocent life would be hurt in the process.

 _I just wanted to be a good person. Normal._ He still didn’t understand why that had turned out to be such an impossible achievement. He wanted to be somebody his mother could have been proud of.

And in the end he’d become everything but that. Disgusted with himself and hating the weakness that kept him tied to somebody like his father, Nate picked up the glass in front of him and tensed to throw down the contents in one swallow.

_”I’m proud of you, son.”_

A wave of nausea rolled through his gut; swallowing hard, Nate put the glass back down.


End file.
